The Ones Who Dance
by oceantreefurysun
Summary: To accept the rain: How else? Dance in it. Lily is looking very exciteable one stormy night, and James follows her. He ends up getting his dearest wish since he was about thirteen.


It was a regular stormy night at Hogwarts. There was lightning flashing and thunder rumbling, rain falling from the heavens and engulfing the ground with mud, enlarging the already gigantic lake. There were the ones sleeping through the rain, the ones who found it comforting, the ones who were scared silly and too chicken to move, and the ones who resignedly accept another sleepless night and go down to the common room. James Potter was one of them.

It had been stormy for about a month, but only now had James mustered enough energy to leave his dormitory during one of the downpours. He had either been too tired, or too warm to leave and be cold.

He was currently sitting in his favorite chair in front of the fire, rubbing his hands over the tinders and trying to avoid the sparks that kept flying from it.

And, out of the corner of his eye, he spies a flash of red and emerald green streak past him, and with a jolt he realizes it was Lily Evans, his crush for six years, his object of affection for three, and his love for two.

She did not appear to see him; she ran through the common room, and James recognised a look of excitement adorning her pale features. She is still wearing her pajamas, and he realizes that they are only underwear and a bra. He quickly stops looking; they had slowly built a fragile friendship, and he didn't want her to see him and think he was a pervert, and have everything be ruined.

He hears the portrait hole open and close; she was gone. But where was she going in those clothes, with such excitement that she didn't even notice him, in such dreary weather?

In one moment, he gets up, deciding to follow her; he reasons that if it turns out to be anything private, he would leave.

He exits the Common Room, and just barely sees her dark red hair whip around a corner; he runs to catch up, but silently.

She sprints down stairs and corridors, past suits of armor and portraits in the pitch dark; it was midnight. The one time that she spied a teacher, she hides adeptly, like she had been doing this for years on end. After the last corridor, he spies the painting of Ursula the Unjust, and knows she is heading for the Entrance Hall.

He was right; she skips down the Grand Staircase, and over the polished floors, right to the door to the grounds.

At this point, James stops. Why did she want to go out there? It was pouring, quite literally.

But nonetheless, Lily pulls open the grandly decorated door, and runs out into the rain, laughing manically. James follows, to watch her.

She is dancing, he notices. Her arms are flying above her head while her red hair follows feebly in their wake, slapping her across the face every time she finishes a turn. She runs her hands down her arms and legs, feeling the rain soak them to the core. James suddenly knows why she was wearing only underwear to dance in the rain; she wanted to expose as much skin as she could to the water.

She is grinning at the sky, still twirling endlessly, and he can't help but smile. She looked like an angel; the moonlight reflected on her pale skin perfectly, making her glitter and shine, and the water only added to the effect. And suddenly, he wants to dance in the rain too.

She spots him. He stops smiling, and she stops dancing. She surveys him for a moment, scruntinizing him with the emerald orbs that are so uniquely hers, while he shifts uncomfortably under her gaze.

And then she beckons. His eyes light up again, and he sprints out to join her, releasing all worries from him and into the wind as he dances and twirls with her. She even allows him to spin her around, his eyes are alight with happiness, she smiles and his heart stops, hours have passed, they have class tomorrow, but they don't seem to care, their bones are dripping with water, their hands and feet are pruned-

And as the sun rises, he looked straight into her eyes and leans forward ever so slightly, asking her permission to do the unthinkable, to kiss Lily Evans, something he had wanted for six years, yearned for for three, and died imagining for one.

And to his utmost surprise, she closes the gap between them.

One week later, James stares intently and lovingly at the sleeping girl in the Hosptial Wing, directly from his own bed. They had both been diagnosed with pneumonia; after about a half an hour, James sighs contentedly and turns on his side. He doesn't notice that Lily has just turned over to watch him.

There are the ones who sleep through the rain, the ones who find it comforting, the ones who are scared silly and are too chicken to move, and the ones who resignedly accept another sleepless night and go down to the common room.

And then there are the ones who dance.


End file.
